


the sun and moon shall meet again (and so shall we)

by strwbrrycow



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29099238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strwbrrycow/pseuds/strwbrrycow
Summary: slight au where there are 10 powers of the titans!reader joins the scout regiment along with eren, mikasa, and armin after witnessing the destruction of their hometown, shiganshina. while unraveling the mystery of the titans along with her comrades, it's discovered that reader may be closer to the answer than expected, and what happens when the very cause for humanity's demise is in the hands of their lover?
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. what happened to yesterday?

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank you 4 reading<333  
> this is my first published fic, so sorry if it's a little wonky at first! i hope i can improve it along the way:)
> 
> (also excuse the random caps here n there >.<)
> 
> ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ✿｡:∞♡*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> intro 2 reader's backstory!! starts on episode one; the fall of shiganshina  
> 

the bubbling chatter of lapping water licks at the stone wall beneath my dangling feet, the delicate wind that blows through my hair a song. i relish in the moment, closing my eyes and allowing the soft heat of the sun to embalm it’s warmth onto my face. i click the heel of my shoes against the cobblestone. this moment in time reminds me of earlier today, when i had awoken just in time for dawn to greet me good morning. rarely do i get up before the sun, i’ve always felt no need to do so. the private comfort of my bed was too tempting. linen sheets from my mother’s time in the inner wall was my slice of paradise during these times when mornings are a biting chill, while the afternoons melt like fire on skin. for a reason i do not know, my mind was pulled from the depths of sleep at a time much too early for my liking. what had kept me awake was the soft thuds of cabinets opening and closing downstairs. _Eloise_ , i had thought to myself. my sister was always one to wake up before the sun, it‘s as though she herself is one. she finds joy in simplicity, she cares deeply and carefully about the things she deems an honor to hold and love. it was this thought of her that told me to ignore the inevitable sprouting of goosebumps that would follow just as i get up from bed, and make my way down to her. at the bottom of the stairs, the floorboards creaking softly underneath my weight, i watched her for a moment. water ran in trickles down the porcelain plates she was scrubbing as she hummed a song behind her pressed lips. her skirt danced softly around her legs as she swayed herself from side to side along with her internal music. i recognized the tune instantaneously. my sister had told me, long ago, that it was a song my mother had heard during her brief time in the inner wall. the instrument was one i had never seen nor heard of, i think it was called the violin. my mother had hummed it to my sister as a lullaby, which my sister now does to me. i watched her for a few mere moments, finding myself to be more and more like her. i had promised myself this morning to do so; to find beauty in simplicity. i smiled at the way she had the window slightly ajar, so she could hear the world wake up with her. lavender and bushels of other herbs swung delicately with the morning breeze. the single flame lit at her side did little to illuminate her now that the rising sun cast shades of clementines and dandelions over her face. the song of birds and wind through distant grass fields is what keeps her company during her times of solitude. i wonder if i’ll ever find myself feeling the same way. suddenly, i had felt the urge to hug her. to hold her and never let go. despite the fact she was right there in front of me, i missed her. running to her, i enveloped her waist between my arms, eliciting a slight gasp to fall from her berry lips. when she had realized it was my arms that had hugged her, she giggled, the sound like a choir of bells. she shut off the water, and set the plates atop the counter before wrapping my wrists between her fingers and pulling me to her side.

“why sweetpea! you’re awake early, how come?”

with her other hand, she ran her slender fingers across my scalp, and scratched me tenderly.

“i dunno.”

i admitted, bumping into her side. she hummed a soft laugh, and knelt down beside me. she rubbed my cheek before pinching it just hard enough the skin would turn a faint pink.

“well then,”

she smoothed down the fabric of my clothes, my shirt messy from sleep, and smiled.

“good morning, little one.”

i pouted then, offended at her choice of words.

“i’m eleven...”

she had playfully scoffed at my answer. she carefully tucked a hand underneath my chin, her long fingernails skimming my skin softly before pulling me towards her face. she planted a kiss on my forehead before replying,

“you’ll always be little to me, sweetpea.”

that was a fact i couldn’t deny. my mother had had us ten rotations around the sun apart. eloise is nearing the age of twenty-one. the skin of her cheeks are soft and blushed, her hair is the color of chestnuts; warm and dark. without the heels of her shoes, she‘s still taller than most women in our district. she has the strength to carry heavy pounds of wood to fix the walls and floors of our home. she can lay the stone foundation without any help. she’s strong, both mentally and physically. it was also this moment, when the sun was painting softer shades of oranges over the land, that i really looked into her eyes for the first time in a while. i had a lot of firsts this morning; my first promise to myself, my first moment of missing what i already had, my first time understanding who my sister is. her eyes, of colors soft as the trickling blues of the canal below, holds pain and anguish. she was old enough at the time of my mothers death to suffer through it, while i was too young to comprehend that death isnt temporary. my mother was apart of the garrison regiment. i have never met my father. it wasn’t until a few years ago that i realized i even had one, let alone that he was probably walking along the same soil as me. regardless of him, i was content with simply just my mother, sister and i. call it living in blissful ignorance, but what was there for me to fear? my mother’s job was safe for the most part. she’d work with the infrastructure of the walls while the sun was high at it’s peak, and return home with a basket of produce just in time for the moon to say her brief hellos to her lover. i don’t remember much about my mother. to this day, i only have vague memories of her appearance. i know she had messy, unruly hair that stuck out at the ends. i know she had a voice that could rarely be silenced; she was a loud, eccentric woman, with so much to talk about that it seemed eternity was much too little time to do so. despite her outlandish nature, she had a charismatic charm to her personality. i saw this in the way she’d bring over her friends from the garrison for drinks. she was gregarious and friendly, it seemed difficult for others to avoid her given her magnetic nature. it was one of these times that i had my first sip of beer. i remember the chaotic uproar that it brought. among the playful banter of her friends, my mother brought me to her lap and set the wooden mug i had held on to the table before kissing the top of my head. she had smiled into my hair and whispered,

“oh my sweet girl, never change.”

i distinctly remember our trips to the market, where she’d take the opportunity to teach me about all the things she died to talk about: how and why fruits grow, the cycles of her majesty the moon, the times of harvest, which herbs have what properties, how to tell direction based on the heavenly celestial bodies, the changing of the seasons, and so much more that my younger self couldn’t contain such information. she was fascinated by the overlooked simplicities of the world, the why’s and how’s that came with it. she bestowed upon me her curiosity, while upon my sister she gave her intense care and love. it was this deep wonder for the earth that led to her transfer to the scout regiment. a mere few weeks ago, my sister explained to me that my mother’s decision didn’t come out of the blue, nor was it a sudden need. eloise revealed to me that the only reason my mother had not joined the scout regiment when she was younger was because she had discovered her body began existing for more than just herself. to ensure the safety of her future daughter, my mother had joined the garrison. even now, my sister speaks so highly of my mother; she was in the top 5 of her class, which i have recently come to find out means you’re eligible to join the military police. why my mother didn’t join them, i do not know. and so, in joining the garrison, she was protecting eloise and stayed close to home and family. my father disappeared after my birth, right around when eloise turned ten. she never speaks of him, and refuses to answer any of my questions surrounding him. even now, she tells me it’s no use hanging onto things that serve you no purpose. when i had turned five, my mother’s decision became clear to my sister. i heard the quiet exchange of whispers one night between the two of them; my mother did not want her decision to seem like it was in vain, but rather the opposite. she felt guilt, raising us in a way that ignored a threat that still carried heavy possibility. i remember my sister had screamed then, anger shedding itself in bullets from her skin. this is what scared me off. i remember hiding under the covers until the sharp yelling from eloise stopped. that was the one and only time i’ve ever heard her raise her voice like that. how my sister allowed my mother to join the scouts, i still don’t know. i believe i’m too scared to ask. regardless of the reason, i just know my sister was no longer angry the next morning. she even muttered a quiet thank you during breakfast, and allowed my mother to hold her into her chest for a few moments. my mother made it past her first expedition, which i could tell was a shock for my sister. we had waited by the front gates, her sweaty palm enveloped over my fingers. our grandfather stood behind us, scratching our heads in care. in truth, i think my sister anticipated her death more than anybody else, yet that slight shred of hope held consistent. the line of soldiers began decreasing more and more, until only a few stragglers stumbled along the path. the grip of my sisters hand over mine loosened. when i stared up at her, the sky in her eyes seemed to have faded to a solitary drop of rainwater. the depth in them shallow, the color dull. it was this moment i saw the first strike of pain swim in her irises. my grandfather suppressed a sob, bringing the back of his hand to his palm. he was exceptionally tall, so large i had to crane my neck so far back that it felt my spine broke just to stare at him. a single tear ran in a jagged line through his scratchy beard. he cleared his throat, running a gentle hand over our shoulders.

“come now, girls. i’ll have supper ready by nightfall.”

i saw no difference in the matter at the time. my mother had been gone for weeks by this point, and as a small child, the attachment to my mother could be severed quite quickly. when my grandfather had pulled my wrist to guide me by his side, i obliged, dragging my foot along in the dirt to create shapes my mother had taught me: _square, circle, triangle_ i had repeated to myself.

“eloise.”

my grandfathers gruff voice had interrupted my patterns. i turned to see my sister standing straight, her shoulders brought up to her ears in tension. her jaw was clenched, breath caught in her chest like a butterfly tangled within a net. the skin over her knuckles were stretched so thin they turned white. my grandfather adjusted the cap he wore, and knelt down behind her, holding her elbow in his hands.

“eloise, my dear. i-i’m sorry.”

he was tender with his words, unsure what to say to her while i continued mindlessly kicking in the dirt.

“papa.”

she had said, the weight of the word slapping him across the face.

“i know, eloise. let’s,”

he paused, clearing his throat once more.

“let’s talk at home.”

he stood, towering over her and cupped her cheeks. it was as though she needed this small touch to rewire her brain because instantly, she broke into a run towards the straggling soldiers.

“eloise!”

he looked to me frantically, as if i were to know what to do. the crowd of townspeople near us turned to see the fuss as my grandfather threw me into his arms and chased after eloise. it was only after a few seconds that he saw where she was going. just making it passed the gate, was my mother, walking alongside the last carriage of wounded. despite the grimness of her situation, she carried herself the same, if not, taller. she carried herself with her shoulders rolled back and tense. she had deeper shadows underneath her eyes, the dark purple on her face a stranger to me. speaking of her eyes, they were tired. they were duller than i was used to, and there were more lines of age on her face than before. other than these slight differences, she still looked like my mother.

“mama!”

eloise shouted, sprinting at her with such speed that she kicked high clouds of dirt behind her at my grandfather and i.

“mother of god..”

my grandfather had whispered, more to himself than anybody else. he slowed to a complete stop, and let my mother greet her firstborn. my mother looked up from her gaze at her feet, instantly falling back into her usual teethy grin.

“my love!”

she looked at the horseman for permission, which he had given with a slight nod, before huffing in a breath and running towards eloise. the deep thud of their bodies clashing together was followed by my mother spinning in a circle, eloise flying around in her arms. tears flowed from my grandfathers eyes into my hair, dampening my forehead slightly. i huffed, wanting to greet my mother with the same energy. she held the back of my sisters head in her hand, her fingers scarred and bruised, holding her in the delicate place of the crevice of her neck. eloise’s arms and legs were tangled like a snake around my mother’s torso, keeping herself as close as humanly possible. giddy with glee, my mother let out a bellowing laugh before running towards my grandfather and i, eloise bouncing in her arms as she did so. my grandfather extended his free arm, welcoming my mother to clash into his side. we nearly doubled over at the force. at the contact, my mother sobbed into his chest, nuzzling me with her cheek.

“oh my sweet, sweet girls. oh, my loves, my girls, i love you, i love you i love you.”

she had repeated to us like a chant before giving her father a kiss on the cheek, laughing with salty tears staining her face.

“i said i’d come back, didnt i?”

it was a happy day. my sister had eaten a full meal for the first time since my mother’s departure, which she was ultimately scolded for. luck, whatever that may be, never lasts though. before my mothers next expedition, which was only a month later, she gathered us at the door.

“my loves,”

she started before kneeling down and folding us within her arms.

“i love, love, love you.”

she had smiled big and wide, the skin around her eyes crinkling in delicate waves, but it didn’t seem right on her face. it seems as though she built such a grand smile to make up for her next few words. she fiddled with her fingers, avoiding our eyes yet speaking with confidence.

“i just need you girls to know something,”

at this her voice had quivered. i remember my sister pursed her lips into a thing line and nodded before my mother even continued. my mother had told us, from the little that i remember, that she loves what she does, despite it being dangerous. she reminded us of all the things she was able to tell us of the little piece of the world she saw. eloise had tears tickling her eyes, yet a quivering smile formed at the ends of her lips. she had thanked my mother again, wrapping her arms around her neck. now that i’m the age eloise was at the time, i’m beginning to understand her need to thank her. i’m beginning to think my sister understood that the choice my mother made was to benefit us; that the dying love for the scout regiment was a shame since they were the few that understood the real dangers of our world, and yet still fought to seek an answer that may or may not be out there in the hopes we don’t have to live under a constant cloud of looming disaster. _why am i suddenly thinking about this..?_ i question, unsure as to why so many memories suddenly flooded my brain. i exhale, opening my eyes before looking up at the clouds, tracing their shape with my eyes until armin speaks again, pulling me back into conversation.

“i think those who believe the walls will forever be safe need to face reality.”

i turn from my place beside eren, and watch as armin pulls his legs up to his chest, tucking his knees underneath his chin. his eyes scan the wall, settling when he reaches the spot where the edge of it kisses the sky. he breaks his gaze and looks from mikasa, to eren, and finally, to me, before starting again.

“just because the wall has done it’s job for 100 years, it doesn’t mean that it can’t ever be broken...”

mikasa shuffles uncomfortably at her place by armin, while eren looks off to the wall. i frown, and copy eren. i remember before my mother left for her final expedition, she had told eloise to never follow this ignorant bliss people seem to live in, which my sister now tells me. it’s not that i cannot enjoy things, my sister obviously still does. she just reminds me that although i must search for a source of light, i mustn’t forget there is still a darkness. she emphasizes though, that no matter how dim things may seem, the more value i put into things, the more i’ll appreciate them. the wall is one of those things. most people forget it’s existence, and rarely ever do they even look at it. i, on the other hand, am thankful for it everyday. it’s a love hate relationship if i’m being honest; i think that’s the way all four of us feel. we feel stuck. i remember eren saying this earlier. i have a slight appreciation for those who pray to the walls. they see them as gods just as much as the heavenly celestial bodies. at least these people appreciate them. i sniffle slightly, wiping my nose.

“i guess you’re right armin, ”

i look back at my friends, their eyes watching me expectantly.

“but that’s why i admire eren for wanting to be in the scouts.”

at the mention of his name, erens eyes widen, those emerald shields enveloping me in a hug.

“my mom wanted the same thing, despite what people said about her. what’s out there will help us in the end, y’know? she died for a reason, all the scouts do. you can’t say that about most people..”

my cheeks heat at my sudden confession, i didn’t even realize i felt this way about death.

“well, anybody who says stuff against your mom are total dicks.”

eren confirms, giving me a supportive smile.

“i wanna be like her.”

i smile at him, gratitude swimming in deep pools behind my eyes.

“me too.”

eren turns to me, excitement melting from his fingertips.

“you wanna join the scouts too!?”

mikasa whips her head towards our direction now, her brows tight in a straight line. i nod shyly, answering erens question. armin shoots his brows up in surprise.

“really? i’ve never heard you mention it!”

eren exclaims. i nod once more, looking back to the wall.

“my mother told my sister and i not to simply accept life behind the walls.. i guess i wanna see what she saw. i want to contribute something to the effort.”

i shrug, kicking the stone wall with my heel.

“and you’re willing to risk your life?”

mikasa questions, tilting her head at me before skimming her eyes over eren.

i ponder that for a second, and ultimately come to a conclusion,

“my mom did. so i guess i would too. i would at least know i didn’t join for nothing.”

eren grips my hand suddenly, grinning so wide that the expression seems foreign on his face.

“i agree.”

he lets go and looks back to the wall, content with my answer. i can tell mikasa isn’t too pleased, so i try again.

“plus, like armin said, aren’t we all ultimately putting ourselves at risk by just existing? the walls aren’t a guaranteed-“

it’s this moment of peace, this seemingly indestructible shard of glass, that shatters in a split second. the looming cloud of inevitable danger has finally burst. unknowingly, life, from this moment on, will forever remain fragile within the palm of my hand. a crack of thunder. darkness. and the looming swirl of smoke.

i’m thrown to the side from the sudden convulsion of the earth, my body being flung over the steps of the stairs a few feet away. i land with my back hitting a sharp edge of one of the steps, the protruding stone cutting slicing a hole into the fabric of my shirt. my elbows are scraped, as is the side of my cheek. with the wind knocked out of me, i struggle to breathe, and have a difficult time thinking straight. i cough, attempting to blink away the pain that trickles through my body. mikasa lays by the bank of the canal, one of her legs dangling over the edge. she grips the smooth concrete, her shaky arms attempting to lift herself up off the ground. my splayed legs twitch over the steps, urgent to get up and find out what the cause of whatever the hell is happening was. i wipe my cheek, a small line of blood smearing across my hand, before leaning forward to lean over the steps below me to grab at mikasa’s sleeve.

“m-mikasa..? you ok?”

she uses one of her elbows as leverage to lift herself up onto her knees before facing me. her wide eyes give me her answer. i nod at her before the two of us help each other stand. balancing on two feet ends up swaying the ground beneath me, eliciting me to clutch at mikasa shoulder. she grips my waist, allowing me to use her as my support until i can walk fine on my own. i was definitely the worst off out of the four of us. we stumble up the top of the steps where eren and armin both attempt to lift themselves from the grass. dust smears both their clothes and stains their hair in small particles. eren shakes his head in an attempt to rid himself of the dirt, while armin shakily turns around to look at us.

“you think that was an explosion?”

he asks us. mikasa shrugs, looking to me for my opinion. i shake my head, letting 

go of her shoulder and wiping my elbows. a few townspeople run by us towards the source of the sound, a look of confusion and fear on their face. armin, without another word, runs off, following them.

“oi, armin!”

eren yells, reaching out for the blond boys sleeve. when he misses, eren takes off after him too, prompting me and mikasa to chase as well. running behind mikasa, i look at her shoes. eloise’s fiancé had crafted them. as the towns shoemaker, he regularly gives us shoes for free, especially since armin seems to get his stolen regularly. it was this thought that reminds me where my family is. my grandfather had died a few years ago, leaving my sister to be my ultimate caretaker. she had met her fiancé, edmund,the year our grandfather died, around the age of nineteen. he proposed just two months ago, and is what I picture my father to have been like. sensitive and careful, edmund relishes in simplicity, much like my sister, but is much more of an optimist that it sometimes drives me crazy. He’s fascinated by the arts, and often sketches portraits of us with charcoal he’d traded a few pairs of shoes for. this morning, while he was out in the gardens collecting herbs for my sister,she had told me they’d be going out for a picnic after browsing through the market. i had denied her offer to go with them, telling her i’d rather run around with my friends today. i had helped eren and mikasa collect firewood before we ran into armin. a frown twitched at the corner of her lips at my denial, but she smiled and told me to enjoy my day.

“you won’t be a child forever.”

is what she had said to me. rounding the corner with mikasa, i bump into her back as she suddenly halts at erens side. i peek behind her at armin, who’s eyes are glued to the spot where the wall cuts the sky once again. i skim over eren, who’s still questioning armin, and notice mikasas eyes are trained into the same spot. finally following their gaze, i feel the nauseating bubble of panic begin to erupt within my stomach. erens voice falters as he notices the same as the rest of us. a large hand has a desperate grip on the top of the wall, the richest color of red i’ve ever seen a sun against the faint gray of the stone. _a-a- a titan...?_ the word titan repeats itself in my brain as if its the only word i’ve ever known. i still refuse to believe it. it’s just a hand. it’s just a hand. it’s just a-

a dark shadow paints over our faces as two gleaming eyes appear over the walls edge. my hand searches for mikasas, our fingers intertwining in complete and utter fear. the face that appears amidst the smoke burns my vision; i’m convinced that all i’ll see from this moment on when i close my eyes is the image of the first titan i’ve ever seen. more than fifty meters tall, the red giant seems to smile at us with its eyes. i forget everything i’ve ever been taught. every word, every movement, every memory. my muscle memory fails me. i’m glued to the ground below me, as though my body is forcing me to stare death in the eyes as if it’s some sort of sick joke. suddenly, another boom ensues. as the other three twitch at the sound, their eyes snapping to where it came from, my eyes refuse to budge from their gaze in that titans eyes. _blue._ i note to myself. i stay clutching at mikasas hands as i ignore the large pieces of stone that fly from the wall. large boulders fling across the city, landing in splintering pieces as they collide with towering buildings. the shattering of glass and bloodcurdling screams of people i call my neighbors echo within my ears. the titan seems to melt away behind the wall, it’s eyes the last thing i say before it disappears. my heart lurches in my chest, urging vomit to escape from my stomach. armin falls to the ground, his knees hitting it with a low thud. i look to where my friends eyes’ are trained upon, and feel the urge to vomit completely dies away. instead, i feel as though my skin has melted from my bones. i feel as though ive been completely separated from my place on earth and instead am watching from a place high above.i completely lose my sense of self as armin utters the words we all dread to hear, despite the evidence being right upon us,

“i-it opened a hole in the wall..”

armin ushers to his feet as the various screams and cries of those left alive fill our ears. i’m shoved to the side by a variety of people as they begin running back towards wall rose. mikasa lets my hand go to reach out to eren, who’s begun to slowly inch himself forward. i blink a few times once more, as if to try and unsee what i’ve just wtinessed; my whole life unraveling in front of me nauseatingly slow. my mouth and throat are both dry. i smack my lips and furrow my brows, completely confused as i’m starting to regain sensation within myself.

“w-we should run too..”

armin instructs us, stammering as he nearly trips backwards. he breaks his gaze from the hole and looks to me, hoping that i’ve come to the same conclusion. i run my hands over my hair and begin to nod frantically, remembering how to use my legs.

i hear eren murmur something about his house before he suddenly breaks into a run. armin yells out for mikasa to wait,but ultimately the two of them have made up their minds. armin begins to go after them but i grab his elbow.

“a-armin..”

i shake my head at him, my hair obstructing my vision.

“armin, we have to go. now.”

i urge him. in the matter of a second, before he can even decide, i grip his wrist and take off running in the opposite direction. luckily, we live relatively near each other, and closer to wall rose than the other two. garrison soldiers run along with us, inducing stragglers to follow along with them towards the boats. guiding armin behind me, i nearly trip at how fast im running towards my house. going up steep hills and broken stairs, we run by destroyed homes and bodies of those unlucky enough to have been crushed by falling debris. i can hear armin’s mutters of disbelief as we cut corners and jump over steps to get the uncertain safety. my mind urges me to look glance behind me, to peek at what little is left of the life I love. turning my head slightly, what i see horrifies me. armin’s eyes are wide with terror as he watches the alleys and streets we pass, his mouth agape in a silent ‘O’ shape.behind him is even worse. boulders rest as if they’re sleeping on top of homes.blood stained concrete is in ruins. streets I once ran through are smashed to pieces; the places where I’d chase the neighborhood bullies away, where I’d share my pieces of bread with friends, where, when the stars were out, I’d dance to the music that seeps from the local tavern. limbs are tossed all over the place as if somebody had dropped a jigsaw puzzle. worst of all is the sight of titans, merely horrifying silhouettes that loom over demolished roofs, spreading like a plague through alleyways. some of them seem to have their mouths forced upwards into a smile, their slimy teeth glistening in the sun. Blood leaks in heavy streams from their mouths, staining their torsos and running heavy over tight skin. others look as if they’re bored, their brows hanging low over their eyes. they looked like us. too much like us. they were man-killing beasts that resembled man himself.almost immediately, suddenly no longer fearful for my own safety but worried about the blond boy behind me, i tug armin harder. i feel his pulse thud like a beehive in between my fingers. his milky skin is sure to be painted with the markings of a bruise from how hard i hold his wrist. as i see my house appear around the corner, i realize edmund and eloise wouldn’t be home. _they’re not home. they’re at the market. or are they already in wall rose, having their picnic?_ i hope it’s the latter as i slow down by the steps of my house, and whip around to face armin.

“armin, please get home safe.”

he stares at me, a blank expression on his face as though he’s not comprehending my words.

“hey!”

i slap him across the face with my voice, the sudden jolt of it jarring him enough to wake him. the blueness of his eyes pierce me so deep i feel a gash form over my heart; armin has the same teary, doe-eyed look to him each time he finds himself in a situation where he’s getting hurt, almost as if his eyes tell me he’s sorry for doing so. every time those eyes apologize to me, whether that’s when he’s bullied around the street corner, or during our current circumstances where our lives are on the line, my urge to protect him runs through my blood in cold heat.

“armin! please, run to your grandfather! i’ll find you.”

the shaking of the earth underneath my feet is a constant reminder of the stalking threats roaming the streets behind us. their faces stain my memory; wide, cursed smiles, bulging, seeking eyes, bodies with skin so thin it stretches over the rough hills of their bones in tight ropes. i want armin to get away from that, he’s the last person that deserves any of this. his shaky voice, the sound of light, sprinkling rain, suddenly drowns out the terror filled voices of men, women and children begging for their lives before death.

“p-promise..?”

he whispers it out so harshly that his throat must endure a painful strain. he wraps a tentative hand over my wrist, tugging it slightly as to elicit my answer. in response, i pull him into me, our bodies melting into one another as a last, desperate resort to escape what could potentially be the last moment of our lives. my nose in the crevice of his neck, i inhale deeply, the scent of my childhood wafting in my nose. he smells of the nights the four of us would run through wavering alleyways, our stubby hands gripping the biting air in an attempt to catch lightning bugs that appear shortly after the moon makes her entrance. of lemon grass stalks that would tickle our legs on windy summer days. of warm tea enveloping us in hugs when the snow slept soundly on the streets in such heaping piles we’d spend the night in one another’s homes. of the splashing canal water that’d lick our ankles while we talk about what life could have been. he smells of the simplicity of an ignorant life. of what my mother warned me against. i got too comfortable, too content that i succumbed to blissful ignorance. i squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember his body in my arms. i feel his frail shoulder blades roll underneath the palms of my hands as he mutters out a sob. i hug him tightly once more before whispering a small,

“i love you.”

into his ear. a cold tear falls onto the fabric of my shirt as he tells me the same. with that confirmation, i push him from me and yell for him to go, to run as fast as he can and find his grandfather. i dare not look back at him— i know i’d be meant with a still-standing armin, hesitating in order to watch me for a brief moment before he obeys my command. i bolt up a shallow incline, stumbling as i do so, scraping my palms against the rough surface of rocky dirt. my legs feel as if they’re licked with fire given the amount of effort it takes to catapult me towards my house. it’s when i’m within range of my home; a tall, thin structure with a beautifully hand-painted overhanging, that i know nobody’s home. my world twists in on itself underneath my feet, plunging me into a sinkhole as i scan my eyes over the scene. the front door is wide open, indicating it was left this way given somebody was in a rush. A toppled over woven basket confirms this belief; it’s stranded at the foot of the stairs, its previous contents splattered over the dirt; produce undeniably gone to waste with stains from the ground. i feel my body slowly seep into the earth— maybe i should allow it to. what else is there now? to run away and cower behind another set of walls while we anticipate the inevitable once again? forced into dislocation, to never see my home, to simply wait and allow death to roam around us? why not just give up now?

  
“get out of the way!”

“stupid kid! run off, will you!?”

Voices blend together in the air while the bodies whom they belong to frantically push by me, one significantly large man, who would often toss me a few spare beads from his jewelry stand, shoved me from his path. I land on my side, the earth greeting me harshly. I curl into myself, contorting myself into a ball as to avoid the sharp heels and rounded points of shoes of townspeople from cutting into me.i can’t breathe, I can’t think-- maybe I want it to end here. what else am i to do? Search for Eloise? In this chaos? Absolutely not. Maybe she’s long gone, maybe while she was searching for me she got herself killed. What if her last words were my name; the last thought to seep from her lips was wondering my whereabouts. to her last moment, I would be the only thing infesting her thoughts. What a sick idea. My selfishness to spend the day with friends led to her demise. a single tear breaks through my lashes as i rest my eyes, accepting my fate as well. i wonder if armin found his grandfather? I wonder if mikasa and eren got home safely? With an especially hard kick to my elbow, I snap my eyes open.With my mouth agape from discomfort, the only tase that greets my mouth is that of soil, rich and dry. I smack my lips together, the taste of hopeless tactile on my tongue. No longer is the wind singing to me, no longer do I hear the bubbling chatter, and never will I hear the soft delicacy of my sister’s lullaby. From now until eternity, I will be tortured by the song of death.


	2. like mother, like daughter

face buried in the dirt, i grow used to the bruises that start to call my skin home. this endless string of time unravels in front of me; how long have i been kicked into the ground? how long have those screams been going on for? armin? mikasa? eren? eloise? edmund? my family? if they’re dead, what could i do? would i just stumble upon their lifeless bodies and allow more sorrow to overcome me? why not just accept defeat when the circumstances are all against me? i guess this is what my mother saw. mother. the image of her thin frame hunched over and cradling me within the embrace of her arms suddenly stains my mind. she would hold me into the warmth of her chest and twirl my growing strands of hair between her fingers ever so gently while whispering sugary admirations into my ear. i, for the first time in a while, truly feel like a child again. a completely ignorant, innocent being. i am reintroduced to a pure kind of ignorance; the type that appears when a child asks where they came from, or when they ask the whereabouts of their elderly household pet. i drown out the peril that swims through the sky and ignore the ruby taint of blood in the air, and instead force myself to remember my mother’s silvery voice. although she was a loud, excited woman, the way she spoke to me, as opposed to eloise, was modulated and soft. this sudden realization of her soft-spoken ways reminds me of a series of peculiar memories. she would often murmur my name, so delicately it reminds me of the way she would pick lavender, as she rocked me in her arms. as a toddler, i never really paid attention to the words she spoke, my mind too preoccupied with her glistening strands of hair or the house speaking to me with it’s creaks and squeaks to fully listen. before bed every night, she would leave her eccentric personality outside the room, hanging it at the door as if it were a heavy coat, a burden. i would latch onto her neck as she laid on her back, her eyes open yet looking at the ceiling, as if searching for an answer within the walls of our home. overwhelmed with the wonders of the day, i’d search for sleep within the crevice of her neck. every night, without fail, water would leak from the corners of her eyes and smudge my cheeks. i remember scuffing away from her grip to avoid that uncomfortable wetness. she’d hold me tighter when i resisted, not hard enough that i’d feel pain, but enough that it’s now obvious she was clutching at my frail body for some sort of help— possibly because maybe she knew i was young enough to question why she needed to sob each and every night under the comfort and safety of the moon. “my baby.. my baby..” she would tell me, closing her eyes as to seemingly shut the world away. i remember tracing her cheeks with my stubby fingers, urging a sad smile to twitch at the corners of her lips. she’d frown but stroke the back of my hand with her thumb. F&“im sorry.” this happened on repeat, it was a routine. after a certain age, she no longer took me into her room and allowed the moon to watch as tears streamed from her face to my own, the memories have fleeted me until now. all that stays with me is the fact that once she’d start crying, i no longer felt the need to escape those tears. i wonder, what was the point of her apologizing. is it possible that, although she had me tucked safely into her arms, she instead needed to say those things to herself? on the brink of societal collapse, i begin to wonder why im so reminiscent of her today.. why, today of all days, am i reaching into my memories that have been so long forgotten? is it because maybe, there’s a possibility this is the last time i’ll ever have the luxury of doing so? the shaking of the ground suddenly jostles me so much so that i know a titan is approaching. i begin to realize i’m correct. rather than my body approaching death, it approaches me. the fleeing crowds have thinned out, nobody left alive around me that could pull me from the ground. maybe it’s cowardly to give up, especially considering who my mother was. But how could i look up to her any longer when she couldn’t even deal with her own life choices, when she felt the need to break in front of her youngest? i begin to close my eyes, wondering what death will feel like, that is until i hear the distant sound of my name being called. gravelly and rushed, i recognize it immediately. what i don’t recognize is the strange sound of metal clinking in bursts, the sound heavy and low. wearily, i open my eyes and watch as hannes approaches, too far away for me to make out what he holds within his arms. i squint, the suns rays nearly blinding me yet providing me a thin blanket of warmth. i struggle to get myself up, to force myself to my feet and run away from imminent danger. my legs feel weak, like i’ve been laying here for long that i’ve forgotten how to walk— not to mention the scattered bruises that stain my legs and arms. my ribs ache each time i breathe, my head kills me from the sudden burst of memories that have found themselves shelter once again, and my heart, my heart burns each second i remain alive. i almost keep myself in this position, almost do i remain still in the dirt, hopeful to be carried away. that is, until the distant fogginess that is hannes turns into not just one figure, but three. in his arms are mikasa and eren, their bodies still but swaying each time hannes takes a step. i love you. meek, small, but still uttered truthfully were armin’s last words to me. armin. i promised. i promised armin. round eyes practically begging me to stay with him, how could i turn my back now? even if everything else is gone. even if i have nothing left to my name, not one article of clothing, nothing left to eat, no home, no family, i have armin. mikasa. eren. chosen family. found family. i rush to stand, urgent to get to them, to feel them in my arms again, to be envious of our memories together. my knees buckle as i finally get to my feet, sudden anxiety and nerves trickling through my body. the rumbling of the earth intensifies underneath me, further preventing me from standing. hannes yells for me again, still too far away to help, too far to save me. i know death awaits behind me; it’s getting impatient, closer. from its looming shadow, i can tell it’s at least 7m tall. i don’t want to turn around and see it’s face, it’s forced, grim smile welcoming me to my end. maybe it’s swallow me whole, or maybe it’d have the common decency to leave at least half my body as something to remember me by. on my knees, i try again to flee. i dig the ends of my palms into the earth, my body redirecting itself into flight mode. i don’t want to die. not now. not here. not like this. i caught myself in a moment of weakness— cowardly acceptance. no way was my mother like that. i know she fought until the end, and she had so much to live for. i regret that the thought was ever accepted into my mind. tears suddenly break out onto my face, visible urgency now leaving evidence on my cheeks. i can’t die here. i won’t allow it. i can practically hear how close it is to me, i see its shadow melt darker into the ground below my face, it’s hand lowering above me. my legs, as opposed to forgetting their intended function, simply are unable to perform. Bruised and battered, my body is in no shape to carry itself. my arms, cut and in similar condition, are weary; physically, i’m weary, drained. i need to get out of here. for the first time in my life, dread finds itself within the walls of my body. unlike my irrational fear of the dark, or the usual panic that repeatedly comes when eren gets into trouble, i’m met with the invisible hands of dread gripping and pulling me down into the earth. my vision is blinded by red as the hand draws nearer. with eyes transfixed in front of me, i’m at least a little relieved that the last thing i’ll see are familiar faces. i give them a small smile, hopeful that they can tell my expression is apologetic. i’m sorry you have to see this is what i want them to know. they’re close enough now that i can make out the part in mikasas hair, and the furrow of eren’s brow. the brown haired boy has that familiar anger plastered over his face, the emotion evident in the way he bares his teeth before shrieking my name. mikasa repeats him, her voice shrill and penetrating. the two wiggle out of hannes’s grasp, thinking maybe they can prolong the inevitable. i exhale any remaining air from my lungs, expunging my soul into the air so that maybe, someday, i’ll find myself again. i allow my eyes to shut, so that the faces of those i hold so close to my heart will remain as my last thought. i feel guilty that my promise to armin won’t be kept, but at least i had said my goodbyes. i reel against the pull of my heartache, and picture the face of my sister and mother as well. my body trembles so violently that i hope it’ll collapse in on itself before i face my death. unexpectedly, my name finds itself in my thoughts. i can even picture my sister whispering it those nights she’s bid me a good night, or when she’d lay a tentative hand over my forehead to ensure i wasn’t sick after laying on cobblestone during a downpour. it comes again, louder, almost tactile. i can even taste the way it sounds, bitter and harsh. once more, and high pitched. at this, i whip my head to the side, rising so that i rest my weight on my knees. sudden regret and distress forcing itself up my stomach in bile. my heart lurches towards him; get out of here. leave me. it’s inevitable. please it begs of him. it isn’t loud enough to convince him. both arms extended, his palms meet my shoulder with such force im violently pushed to the side, my skirt and legs being sliced by jutting pebbles. im left sprawled on my back, and watch helplessly as edmund, desperate to escape as well, gets grabbed by his arm. once again, my name meets my ears, but this time it’s muffled and disembodied. i recognize the owner of the voice, yet, i can’t seem to look away from edmunds eyes. im transfixed, baffled that he’d lay down his life for me in much the same regard my mother did. his legs dangle still under him, as if his body has no fight to give, and his free arm flinches as if urging him a goodbye. his face is contorted in pain; i know what he’s thinking— is this really the last thing i see. with tears blurring my vision, i can no longer make out his face, but i’d hate myself for as long as i live if made sure his last memory wasn’t a happy one. despite the obvious sadness on my face, i grant him a smile. thank you. thank you for everything is what i want him to know. i can tell this message, unlike my last, reaches him. his eyes flutter closed in acceptance, a smile small but there nonetheless. a voice, belonging to the same person as before, yet unlike the last cuts through the air, high and drenched in desperation. eloise calls out to her lover, stumbling as her shoes slip from her feet and her skirt is caught between her foot and the ground. he’s facing away from her, yet i catch the hint of a loving smile twinge on his lips before the titan pries its mouth open far enough that its gleaming rows of teeth are exposed to me. it nearly swallows him whole, leaving nothing behind except for a gnawed-off portion of his foot, half a shoe and deep, thick trails of blood dripping from its mouth. a sadist may find it humorous that all that that remains of edmund is a grim, satirical reminder of his profession. preoccupied with ending a life, the titan pays no mind to my sister who finally, after what felt like an eternity, lifts me from the ground and nestles me into her chest. she yells for hannes as she sprints away from the gruesome scene, the vibrations from her throat tactile on my forehead. my expression is blank, lips pressed into a thin line. something dark plummets through me as i force myself to tear away from my better nature and look at my sister's eyes. she has a foreign yet all too familiar pained, tortured look within the gentle blues of her eyes. what surprises me though is that, as if out of the blue, that anguish melts into nothingness— as if by some miracle she suddenly dismisses the pain from her memory, locking it away until some unforeseen event. it startles me, the way she so quickly composes herself, how soon her rapidly beating heart eases into a rhythmic, clock-like thudding. the first figure to approach us is eren, whose pupils are shriveled into puny, dark puddles. the redness of his eyes and cheeks indicates to me he’s suffered through a fate similar to mine. upon realizing this, i look to mikasa, who swiftly sprints alongside hannes, the metal gear clinking at his sides a stranger to me. he looks too formal with the weight of the equipment hanging off of him, he looks sorrowful to even have it on. shallow breaths from eloise melt into my hair as the ragged breaths from hannes echo in my ears. they’re all alive- their heavy breathing lulling in my ear, singing to me _i'm alive i'm alive im alive_. i close my eyes, my body dripping with sleep, my mind relentlessly searching for rest though my bones and body ache. i whisper, so meekly into her neck that it’s hard to believe the sound was my own voice. “i’m sorry.” it breaks from my throat, as if im ashamed to have faced death-- no, not faced,but accepted. i so easily gave up merely because i assumed i was left to my own devices, and that acceptance brought upon her lover a fate of demise. her gulp is louder than it should be, the sound of her swallowing back a sob stinging me like poison. for a moment, she ponders. i wonder if she believes my apology was because of edmund, or because i feel guilt for having put him in that position. im not sure which i’d prefer. “it isn’t your fault.” the phrase hangs heavy in the air. she never dares to utter a lie— she either doesn’t answer at all or gives me the hard truth. this time, it’s my turn to suppress a sob. i’ve blindly trusted her my entire life, what she says goes, except in this moment. i find myself doubting her. how could that be true? “all i need you to know,” she pauses to drink in a breath of air before starting again, her voice wobbly as we proceed up an incline, “is that you live a life worth fighting for.” she falls slightly behind hannes considering the extra weight she must carry— she’s used to carrying pounds of firewood during the peace of the evening, not a grown child while escaping near death. i gaze at the pendant that bounces around her neck, the glistening silver locket redirecting the sun’s rays into my eyes. without response, she glances down at me, and offers me a solemn smile. “you can fight sweetpea. more than you realize.” this sparks a new sense of ferocity within me; my mother had the same ideology. at some point in her life, she sought the will to fight, allowing herself to set aside ignorant bliss and acceptance, and demand a change for humanity’s future. no longer did she blindly accept a meaningless life cowering behind the walls, she wanted more. she wanted to experience more life. she wanted us to have the chance to do so as well. her death was a step in the right direction, and i will not allow myself to have a death any different than hers. i will die searching for the answer. i will only die peacefully after doing so. i will only die peacefully after having slain every creature belonging to the devilish race of titans. i will ensure my death means something; that i fight with every aching fiber within me for my right to a peaceful existence. i will live and die like my mother.


End file.
